


the things we're made of

by beneathyourbravery



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Domestic, Early Mornings, Husbands, M/M, Self-Doubt, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:53:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21605602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beneathyourbravery/pseuds/beneathyourbravery
Summary: Minghao relishes early mornings.
Relationships: Kim Mingyu/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Comments: 9
Kudos: 54





	the things we're made of

**Author's Note:**

> this is based off that one soft Reddit r/relationships post you can find at https://twitter.com/redditships/status/1192864667712012288?s=20 !!!
> 
> i've been missing writing a lot lately, so i put myself back into work and this happened. i hope you'll like it!

_You asked me once,_

_What are we made of?_

_Well,_

_these are the things we’re made of._

\- Richard Siken

Minghao relishes early mornings; the slow motion of opening his eyes to a perfectly quiet world, which, for a short fraction of time, belongs only to him. 

At night, right before getting into bed after a long, tiring day, he likes to leave the curtains slightly open so, when dawn finally breaks through the dark night sky, the first rays of sun will gently reflect on his face, pulling him from his sleep and into a brand new day full of endless possibilities. 

Minghao wasn’t always like this. His love for the first hours of daylight, and the appreciation of a life that lately feels like a gift he was once not so sure he deserved, takes shape in the form of his husband sleeping peacefully beside him, his broader body curled up around Minghao’s own, as if to protect him from the cold and the dark and the dangers of a night that is now left behind them, shied away by the slowly rising sun. 

In the quiet of the morning, when it is still too early for the birds to be singing, Minghao allows himself to watch Mingyu’s calm form laying beside him for a few strong, longing beats of his heart, before forcing himself to get out of the warmth of their shared bed. He pads his way towards the kitchen, feet curling in his socks, not yet used to the cold temperature of the wooden panels that make up the floor in the awakening of this new winter day. 

He notices frost licking up at the glass of the kitchen window while he waits for the water to boil, and subconsciously wraps his arms around his middle, pressing himself closer to the sweatshirt he is wearing. It is Mingyu’s, hanging too loosely on his skinny frame, and the thought of his husband’s arms around him, bringing him the warmth he so desperately craves right now, is almost enough to make him walk back into their bedroom and get into bed with him. There is still almost an hour left before they both have to start getting ready for work, and despite how tempting the thought is, Minghao ends up pouring himself a cup of tea that he carries to the living room. 

His beige blanket rests, neatly folded, on the armrest, right where he had left it the previous night, when he and Mingyu had finished watching an outdated movie on tv and had to start getting ready for sleep. Minghao sits down, his back pressed to the corner of the couch and his knees bent so his feet are planted on the seat, and carefully drapes the blanket over his curled form before reaching for the cup of tea he left on the coffee table. Like he does every morning, he allows himself to relax and enjoy his solitude, his thoughts and tea his only companions as he greets yet another new day. With his gaze fixed on the outside world through the windows of their shared home, Minghao allows himself, one more time, to engrave into his mind the way in which the sunrise paints the sky with different shades of purple, yellows and reds. 

Later, when he knows their alarm is set to go off in a short amount of time, he will go back to the kitchen and make coffee the way he knows Mingyu likes. With careful steps, he will leave the steaming mug on his husband’s bedside table, claiming the first spot in their shared bathroom to get ready for work. And waking up will have been worth it, once again, when he hears Mingyu’s sleep-laced voice calling out for him, just like every single time. 

On the contrary, Mingyu - who might as well be the reason why Minghao keeps waking up every morning, if only to see him smile one more time, to feel his love warming up every fiber of his being as if he was fire, washing over him like a torrent - cherishes sleep as if it were his most treasured belonging. Waking up is the toughest moment of the day for him, and yet, as with everything, Minghao always manages to make it worth it.

On the rare mornings in which Mingyu wakes up first, it is his constant desire of surprising Minghao which pulls him out of bed. If it was down to him, he would spend all the time remaining until their alarm goes off watching his husband sleep. Minghao is usually calm, never raising his voice, his hobbies relaxing and his touch able to bring Mingyu peace even on his most frantic days. Despite this, he looks ethereal before Mingyu’s eyes when he is asleep, with not a single worry line on his smooth face, and his pink lips parted and slightly chapped from the cold. Mingyu has to repress the urge to catch those lips with his own in his quest of not waking Minghao with his fuss, and so he tries to be as quiet as possible when he gets out of bed to make some tea for his husband. 

The early hours of the morning have always been the hardest for Mingyu. The world is too cold, everything too still and silent, and his husband, sleeping alone in their bed, would surely appreciate the body heat he brings him under the covers. However, the thought of waking Minghao the way his husband does every morning, and seeing his doe eyes full of surprise at the action, makes it all worth the effort. 

As he watches the hot water wash down the tea leaves inside the cup, Mingyu finds himself smiling as his mind conjures up the image that will greet him when he brings the drink to Minghao. His husband will be curled up underneath the thick covers, with the longish hairs of his bangs falling over his eyes, his breathing even and his cheeks slightly tinted with a soft rosy color. Mingyu will sit on the edge of the bed, cup of tea resting safely on the bedside table alongside with his mug of coffee, and he will lean down to carefully nuzzle Minghao’s cheek. Like a cat, his husband will curl up into himself a little further, and yet he will still chase Mingyu’s touch. Even in their dreams, the longing for one another pulls on the strings around their hearts and makes them drift, unconsciously, towards each other. Gently, Mingyu will run his fingers through Minghao’s hair, and with the soft mumbling of tender words, he will wake him up, rejoicing in the surprised expression on his husband’s face at being awoken by him. 

Later, once they have both finished their drinks sitting together under the covers, they will wash their teeth side by side. Mingyu will playfully smear Minghao’s nose with toothpaste, and Minghao will whine and roll his eyes and stare at his husband’s reflection on the mirror, gaze tender, kind, loving. 

  
  


Lately, whenever Mingyu wakes up before him, Minghao’s mind becomes a turmoil. His body, so used to the gentle, warm awakenings that the sunrise and his husband’s arms provide, is instantly jolted awake whenever Mingyu tries, unsuccessfully, to sneak out of their bed without him noticing. Yet, still curled up under the covers, he listens to the careful, soft steps his husband takes towards the kitchen. 

Once he is sure Mingyu is sleepily focused on preparing breakfast for Minghao, he sits up on the bed to rest his back against the headboard, a soft sigh escaping his lips. Not yet ready to face the mails and messages surely flooding his inbox, he reaches over to pick up the book in which he is currently engrossed in lieu of his phone. Mingyu will take a maximum of half an hour to come back to the bedroom, determined to wake him up as a surprise, in return for all the mornings Minghao leaves coffee on his bedside. By now, Minghao knows the exact moment in which he must put his book aside once again, and get under the covers to make it seem like he is still asleep. Mingyu never notices he is pretending, and his face always lights up with some form of utter happiness every time he gets to be the first thing his husband sees when he wakes up. 

Minghao doesn’t have it in him to let Mingyu know he wakes up right after he does, and it is starting to stir some doubts inside his chest, about whether he is lying to his husband and breaking his trust in some way. He turns the thought over and over again inside his head, in the kind of early mornings that do not allow for the enjoyment of his solitude, when Mingyu is making an effort to get out of bed just so he can surprise Minghao for once. Mingyu, whose tenderness gives Minghao shelter in his worst moments, whose support has opened endless possibilities in a life he once despised, and now cherishes dearly.

Minghao never thought there could be enough space in his chest for a love as big as the one he feels towards Mingyu, for the feelings that have made a home out of his heart and now pour out of his every action, of every glance he shares with his husband. It is in moments like these when Minghao wonders, if only for a brief moment, if he deserves someone like Mingyu. He knows he is letting his insecurities take over his mind, probably, worrying too much about a lie so innocent it surely carries no real weight for their relationship. The only reason why he pretends to still be asleep when Mingyu comes to wake him up is the smile he knows he will find on his husband’s face when he opens his eyes once again, so full of love that it makes his heart clench, painfully, inside his chest. 

As the sound of Mingyu’s steps becomes louder, Minghao has to force himself to get rid of these thoughts that lately seem to be flooding his mind, smoothing out his expression as he presses himself into the soft pillow. This time, Mingyu will get under the covers to wake him up, strong arms wrapped around his middle, soft lips resting on the curve of his shoulder, gentle kisses washing over his warm skin. 

“Good morning, love,” Mingyu will whisper, like a prayer against the side of his neck.

And Minghao, too enamoured by the gentleness that impregnates each and every one of his husband’s gestures, will melt underneath his touch, shifting so he can lay on his other side; so the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes, once again in this cold, promising morning, will be Mingyu’s crooked smile and loving eyes. 


End file.
